Everyone has a story. A story deep inside of them begging to be told. Some rarely let their story leave their lips and bury it deep inside. Others share it freely allowing them to have power over their story. They are not simply ruled by it. No, they are the tellers and master's of their story even if they had no control over it. My story can be told in one sentence. I was raped. Though, I will tell the long version even though each moment is painful to recall.
I was going to hangout with my friends. We were going to the bar. I was already there, when they opted out. I don't even drink, so I was just sipping on some sprite. I don't do well with caffeine late at night. There was this guy from one of my classes. I couldn't recall his name.
He said, "Hello!"
"Hey, dude. What's up?"
"Just chillin, you?"
"Nothing."
We talked for awhile about classes and finals. That's when I began to feel weak and dizzy. The room was spinning.
"I am going back to my room."
"No, let me help you dude."
I leaned on him as he helped me to my dorm. I don't remember much after that. I remember lying on my dorm room bed. I remember him locking the door. I remembering thinking as I passed out that stuff like this doesn't happen to guys. Whatever he had put my drink. I couldn't move. When I finally woke up, I was on the floor just in my boxers. He was gone. It didn't feel real. How could this happen to me? I felt like less of a man for it. I could barely remember what happened. It was morning. I was late for a meeting I had. This nagging feeling told me to go to the police, but I didn't want to. I felt embarrassed that I had allowed this to happen to me. Something in me compelled me to report this to the police.
"Hello, I am here to report a rape," I croaked
The words felt weird coming out of my mouth.
They asked me a lot of questions. Some questions, I wasn't exactly comfortable answering. One of them made me feel sick. Why didn't you fight him? I couldn't. I couldn't move. I wasn't conscious for most of it. I could not move not even a bit. That made me feel weak and helpless. They told me. I should go to the hospital. I did. They helped me more there. I remember a nurse, who thought I was out of earshot whisper, 'Men don't get raped.' The words burned in my ears. I didn't want it. Wasn't that rape?
They completed the tests so after that I left. Those words hit me like dangers. THey played over and over in my head. Men... don't... get... raped.. I reached dorm room. I locked the door and cried. I never usually cry. This time, I cried like never before. I couldn't stop. I was shaking. My face was bright red. I was angry and sad all at once. I still couldn't believe any of this. I decided to call my mom. She said she was coming right down. I didn't feel like I could just leave. I had classes. My life was here now.
The next Monday came. My mom was staying at hotel nearby coaxing me to come home. I didn't know what to do. What do you do? Life can't just stop.
I headed to my class the warmth of spring filled the air. The sun's bright warm rays seemed so contrary to the cold emptiness I felt within. I sat in my class and HE was there. He looked right at me and gave me this smirk that sent chills up my spine. Somehow, I thought the police were going to address this monster. I freeze not knowing whether to stay or go. He walks up to me and sits by me.
"Saturday night was fun," he says snarkly then winks.
It shakes me to the core. Four simple words said by my rapist.That's when I knew I had to go. Right then and far away from here. I got up and practically ran to my room. I started packing up everything. I needed to get out of there.
I was so angry and confused and sad. Everything was a whirlwind. I could barely remember what I was doing. I do know I returned to the police station, " Why is HE STILL FREE," I screamed. I was burning hot with anger and malice. I could kill him right here right now. My blood was pulsing through my veins hard and fast.
"We're processing it."
"PROCESSING! PROCESSING! DAMN IT! DAMN ALL OF YOU FOR NOT DOING YOUR JOBS!"
I stormed out of their my emotions out of control. Anger, sadness, and hatred all breathing out of me at the same time. If I didn't know anything else I knew I had to go. I had to get out of there fast.
My dad is here today. My parents help me pack everything into the van they rented to take everything from my dorm.
As we drove away, I was happy to be gone. This was only the beginning not the end of this story of the darkest part of my life. This is my story. The story that I have to tell. I am done telling this part. So I guess this is the end...
